


(super-) Naturally prepped for Christmas

by Wandererzaehler



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Advent Calendar, Advent Calendar Drabble, Bad at tagging, Enjoy!, Multi, Various Genres, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandererzaehler/pseuds/Wandererzaehler
Summary: A Supernatural Advent calendar full of prompts I (smart as I am #facepalm) drew lots for. Get prepared for Christmas with ridicolousness, drama, mistletoe, Destiel and (probably) a certain amount of humour! Have fun and enjoy!





	1. Day 01: Cocoa; motel room; Ellen & Castiel

_**A/N:** Last year I was part of 'Lucifer's Christmas Countdown Challenge', together with three other writers. That was so much fun I decided to do it all over again with another show and other characters and, this time, on my own._

_I drew lots for the prompts, and, believe it or not, there was only one where I immediately said: That's a probable one! The others are... well, not what you might expect. To give you my favourite challenge: mistletoe, Sam's room, Death & Crowley._

_But I'll deal with all of them... somehow._

_I can't promise it'll always be light. I can't promise to keep it dark either, or funny. It'll probably be a mess in the end – but I'll write it anyway, and I'd be very pleased if you took the time to leave me a review._

_Enjoy!_

**_._ **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show. I don't get money off of this.**

**_._ **

_**Season:** Season 9_  
_**Spoilers:** Season 9 (obviously)_  
_**Additional tags:** AU for obvious reasons_

**.**

**Day 01: Cocoa; motel room; Ellen & Castiel**

Ellen sits down on the bed, which squeaks in defiance against her weight. Castiel watches her out of the corner of his eye while he fumbles around with the first aid kit Dean has thrust into his hand before leaving. His hands shake badly.

Ellen notices: “It's just a scratch, Castiel. You'll do fine.”

“It doesn't look like it's just a scratch”, he rasps against the roughness in his throat. It's probably showing some serious bruising by now. “Just a little while ago, I easily could've...”

He shakes his head.

Supporting one arm with the other, she shoots him a worried look before saying: “That shifter got us real good, didn't he?”

Cas picks the items he needs out of the kit and nods. “Thank you for getting him off of me”, he said and moves over to clean Ellen's wound.

“You're ouch”, she winces, “welcome. Couldn't very well leave him choking you to death.”

She snorts, then clenches her teeth against the next wave of pain. While Castiel's inexperienced fingers tend to Ellen's wound, they both keep quiet. Halfway through the procedure, Castiel's hands stop shaking.

.

Castiel returns from the bathroom in a new, crisp white shirt. The only visible signs of their encounter with the shifter are the bruising around his throat and the weary lines on his face. Ellen sits at the motel room's single table nursing a cup filled with something hot. Curls of steam rise from it.

“Sit”, she tells him, gesturing toward a second cup set out for him, “drink.”

Castiel sinks down on the chair and pulls the cup closer. He stares at it with a faraway expression in his eyes.

“Cas.”

He looks up.

“None of the things happening today was your fault. No one's blaming you.”

“I blame myself. I should be stronger. I should be able to help you, to defend you, not drag you into tight spots like this.”

Ellen shrugs: “That's just part of being a hunter. Part of being human.”

Cas sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Sam and Dean'll deal with this, Cas, and next time things will go better. Hunter's promise. What you can do now is drink up your cocoa and go to bed – that's what I'll do, too, and in the morning things will look better.”

“Tomorrow I will still be human”, he whispers.

Ellen reaches over the table to firmly squeeze his hand.

“What counts is that tomorrow, you're still Castiel. That's the only thing that matters to us.”

.

The End

.

_**A/N:** I know cocoa isn't really Christmas themed... But I loved writing this chapter!_


	2. Day 02: Christmas shopping, bunker kitchen, Bobby & Mary

_**Season:** Season 12_   
_**Additional tags:** AU_

_**A/N:** I can't believe I wrote five versions of this and I'm still not satisfied!! Aaaargh! Even so, this is much better than a lot of other stuff I posted... xD_

.

Bobby barely manages to set the mass of bulging shopping bags down on the table before collapsing into a chair with a sigh. Mary bustles around the kitchen, starting to unpack the groceries and presents, sorting them into the fridge and cupboards with nervous energy radiating off of her.

She grabs a package of sugar and freezes. She stares at it as if she'd never seen a package of sugar before.

Bobby noisily clears his throat.

Mary sinks into the chair next to him, setting the sugar onto the table slowly before she turns and says: “I'm doing too much, right?”

Bobby hesitates.

“It's just... I missed so many Christmases. The boys, they probably never... John – my John, he... Last time I celebrated Christmas with my sons, things were...”

She trails off, but Bobby finishes the sentence for her: Different. Whole. Perfectly happy.

Bobby's feet ache from all the walking and standing. His back hurts from carrying far too many, far too heavy shopping bags all day. The re-re-runs of the same Christmas songs still echo in his ears and at intervals he keeps smelling the weird scented candles Mary's made him smell at the mall.

Bobby is exhausted – and he hasn't even worked a job.

Dean's going to be happy as long as there's pie and beer. Sam is... well, since Mary's back, he appears to be happier than he ever has.

Bobby wants to tell Mary the truth - _“Hell yes you're doing too much...!”_ – but seeing the pleading expression in her eyes, he bites his tongue and takes a breath.

“I'm sure they're gonna like it.”

When he sees how his assurance makes her face light up with one of her rare, bright smiles, Bobby feels he did the right thing.

That is, until she realises she's forgotten some ingredients and asks him to get them.

Bobby groans – inwardly, of course – and grabs his car keys.

There's no turning back now.

.

The End


	3. Day 03: candy cane, hospital room; Sam, Dean & Rufus

_**Season:** Season 3_   
_**Spoiler:** 'All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 2' / Season 3_

.

_**A/N:** One of the rare occasions on which the story just came together when I wrote things down. I love it when that happens, don't you?_

_Also, this only works when we stretch time between the last two episodes of season 3... For the sake of the story, let's just pretend._

* * *

 

Sam started moving and opened his eyes, blinking against the light. Dean, who'd been sleeping in a chair pulled up next to the bed, woke up with a start. He saw Sam was up and tension seeped out of his shoulders.

“Hey there, kiddo – take it easy, okay?”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, right here.”

Sam lay back and groaned: “What happened? Where'd everyone go?”

Dean frowned, then shrugged: “If by 'everyone' you mean the vamp – I got rid off him. Not that you were any help, man. How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts.”

“I can imagine that”, Dean chuckled, remembering how Sam tried wrestling the vampire, who was even taller than Sam and fiercely fought for his life. Not that that helped him in the end. But before Dean could sever head from body, the vamp threw Sam against the wall with an ugly sound, leaving Sam limp and unconscious.

“Where are we?”

“In a hospital, two towns over. Your head was bleeding real good, and I didn't want to ruin your pretty looks by stitching it up myself.”

He tried to keep his voice light, though really he'd been beside himself with worry. Sam's wound didn't stop bleeding no matter what he tried, and when his brother wouldn't wake up either, he decided it was time to get professional help.

The memory of Sam lying on a dirty mattress, just an empty shell with nothing in it any more was still too fresh in his mind.

No way he'd risk having sold his soul for nothing by letting Sam die on his watch. Again.

“So”, Sam said, apparently ignoring Dean having a dig at him, “where's Rufus?”

Dean blinked: “Rufus? Rufus Turner? That Johnnie Walker Blue friend of Bobby's?”

“Yeah. He said he'd be back in just a moment...”

“Sam, you haven't even met the guy, besides, I don't think he gets out much. What are you talking about?”

Dean worriedly searched Sam's face for some kind of clue. Something was wrong.

“He said he'd bring me a candy cane!”

Something was very wrong.

While Dean contemplated searching the room for hex bags or signs of sulphur, worrying that probably this time Sam bashed his head too hard to heal, his brother frowned, then asked in a small voice: “Has Bobby ever built a gingerbread house with us?”

“What? No. God no.”

“Dammit! Then there's no Christmas tree either, is there?”

“Have you looked outside lately? It's June, and 86 degrees out there!”

Sam groaned: “Then it really was a dream. I wasn't sure, it felt so real.”

Dean's shoulders slackened in realization – so no foul play in motion.

Sam ran a hand over his face, then carefully probed the bandage around his head: “Wait, what did you say about my pretty face just now?”

Dean grinned: “Let's get you out of here, huh?”

* * *

 

Back in the Impala, Dean swore to himself that next time he saw a candy cane, he'd get it for Sam. Hell, he'd buy a whole store worth of candy canes if that was going to make his brother happy.

He could only hope that he came across candy canes before his time ran out.

.

The End


	4. Day 04: Snow, TV studio, Alex & Castiel

_**Season:** Past series!_

_**A/N:** I triple-checked this story – but as I’m home unbelievably late and terribly tired, no guarantee there’re no spelling/grammar mistakes left._   
_Have a good night, y’all!_

.

Ever since that horrible night, he’s been working. Working, working. Working one case after the other to drive the memories and the regrets out of his mind. He never stops, since he doesn’t need to sleep. He never rests, because resting has become impossible. He never takes a day off – except one week towards the end of the year which he has dedicated to honor the memory of those long dead. He visits the people they saved, their fellow hunters, and those who got out of the life after that night.

He visit the people still living who knew the Winchesters as he did.

There is only one name left on his list now.

.

Castiel waits at the door. If he was human, he would probably have walked up and down to keep warm. He would stomp the snow sticking to his boots off. But Cas isn’t human, and so he only stands there until the door to the TV studio opens and Alex steps outside.

“Castiel”, she says smiling, “I wondered if maybe this year you’d be a no-show.”

Cas snorts and shrugs, careful not to say out loud that he hopes maybe one year he really is just gone.

Alex gestures towards the building behind them: “Do you want a tour?”

“Is that allowed?”

Alex grins: “Probably not.”

Cas shakes his head: “Then I’d rather not be the person responsible for losing you your new job.”

Alex points towards the parking lot, and they set off together.

“No more local news then, I gather.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like it here?”

Alex nods, and her wide smile tells Cas she’s telling him the truth. While she animatedly talks about being a news reporter, Castiel watches her. She’s changed. The teenage girl he knew years ago has vanished and turned into a responsible, mature woman with a the first lines showing on her face – Cas, on the other hand, still looks the same as he always had.

“… and of course it’s much closer to Tom’s home.”

Alex pauses and waits for him to say something. He retraces the last few sentences she’s said and settles on asking: “And how is Tom?”

Now Alex tells him about how amazing her feyoncé is, and Cas, deeming it unfair not to pay attention, tries to keep up with new names and places and the couples’ plans.

They reach Alex’s car and stop.

“I’m glad you’re so happy”, Castiel tells her, and that’s the truth. Alex smiles, then pulls him into a hug he hesitantly returns. She lets go of him, but whispers into his ear before pulling back: “I wish you’d come by more often. I don’t like the idea of you on your own all the time.”

She steps back.

Cas smiles at her tiredly: “You told me a long time ago you wanted to get away from this life. Away from hunting and killing and death, and I understood. I don’t want to be the reason you get dragged back in.”

Castiel avoids Alex’s eyes and fixedly stares at his feet instead, boots caked with snow.

Alex reaches out and lays her hand on his arm: “Look, Cas – just because Sam and Dean are gone doesn’t mean you don’t have any friends left. I don’t plan on being ‘dragged back in’. I just want you to check in more often. I ‘m worried about you.”

“You shouldn’t be. I can look after myself.”

“I know”, she says sadly, “but I wonder if you even try.”

.

Castiel watches Alex pull out of the parking lot, waving her goodbye. It was still snowing in big, steady snow flakes that settle in Cas’ hair and on his clothes. Gusts of wind tear at his clothing.

He watches until the taillights of Alex’ car are no longer visible before he turns towards his own car.

There is a presumed vamp infestation near Wichita Castiel decided to eradicate.

_I just want you to check in more often._

It’s going to be Christmas soon, he realizes as he slides into his seat. Maybe he can call Alex on Christmas Eve, just to hear if she’s doing alright. Claire, too.

As he starts down the road, Castiel, for the first time in ages, doesn’t feel utterly alone.

.

The End


	5. Day 05: Santa hat, mall; Dean & Jess

**_Tag: ‘What is and what should never be’ (Alternative Universe)_ **   
_**A/N:** This is a chapter I’m really proud of for some reason…!_

_._

“So – what do you think?”

Dean, busy with carrying an enormous amount of shopping bags, looked up at his sister-in-law, who grinned at him from under a Santa hat with huge, blinking, red stars attached to the rim.

He stared at her, managed to hold all the bags in his left hand and quickly snatched the hat off of her head to throw it back unto the pile with Christmas hats: “Yeah, you’re not wearing this!”

Jess pouted and Dean sighed and gave in: “Sam probably thinks you look cute with this thing. I’m okay with it as long as it’s not on your head when we eat dinner Christmas eve.”

Jess grabbed the hat and went to pay for it while Dean rearranged the bags in his hands.

“Lucky Sam who couldn’t make it to this awesome shopping trip because of work”, Dean grumbled.

“You’re lucky Carmen isn’t here, either”, Jess, who reappeared to add yet another bag to Dean’s overly full hands, “She doesn’t shop as light as I do.”

“That’s _light_?!"

“Of course it is. We haven’t even had a look at shoes yet.”

Dean groaned.

.

They’d stored most of their shopping bags in the car to have their hands free again. Dean had demanded a stop to eat something, and Jess didn’t object.

Now, however, Dean’s plate was untouched, his burger slowly growing cold.

“What is it?”, Jess asked, worriedly drawing her brows together.

“There’s a reason I asked Carmen not to come with us today.”

“Oh?”

Dean fought an internal battle to find the right words. So far he hadn’t let anyone in on his secret. He knew he could trust Jess, but still… He could still back out now without someone knowing.

Speaking it out loud would make it real. Real was scary.

Then again, his parents surely wouldn’t have ended up together if John, at some point, hadn’t had the courage to ask.  
“Dean?”

“I was… I was hoping you’d help me pick a ring”, he rasped against his quickly drying throat. God, was he really doing this?

“What? Wha – Oh!”

Dean had expected an outburst of emotion from Jess, an excited giggle or squeal, especially now, but she only smiled brightly and grabbed his hand to squeeze it: “Dean, I’m so happy for you.”

“She hasn’t exactly said ‘yes’ yet.”

Jess slapped his arm: “Oh please. She’d be a fool not to. Now eat your burger so we can have a look at rings before I get too fat to move!”

Dean grinned and now dug into his burger with renewed appetite. Speaking around meat and salad, he mumbled: “It barely shows yet, Jess, there’s plenty of time left.”

“But I’d like to fit into a dress for the wedding, thank you very much!”

Dean chuckled: “I’m sure we can fix a date after your little one has been born.”

Jess stuck out her tongue and looked at her stomach: “Yeah, that’d be great. I’d love a family photo then – you, Carmen, Mary and Sam and me, together with our kid.”

Dean, suddenly swallowing against a lump in his throat, nodded and smiled: “We’ll do that, Jess. That’s a promise.”

Then he smirked: “And please bring the hat.”

.

The End


	6. Day 06: candles, Roadhouse; Dean & Garth

_**Setting:** Stanford Era / AU_

_**A/N:** I googled it – Jensen Ackles and DJ Qualls are the same age. I'd never thought that...! Also, I don't like this chapter very much._

**.**

Dean sat in the corner, staring into his beer. He'd woken up with the weird feeling that something was wrong. Since his Dad was all right, it was probably Sam he was worried about.

He thought about calling his brother, and whenever he thought about calling Sam when he and Dad weren't on a case, he went for a drink instead.

No way he would be the one to call first.

Besides, Sammy was at Stanford living his life. He'd gotten out.

So now here Dean was, hours later, and a lot more drunk than before, especially since he realised that the reason why he'd had a weird feeling was that it was Christmas day. Christmas day – but without Sam. Dad hadn't mentioned it, caught up in research for a probable case, but Dean, as soon as he realised it, couldn't stop thinking about it.

Last year's Christmas hadn't gone without a bump or two, but at least Sam had been there. He'd always been there, and Dean missed him. Apparently Sam was much better at living alone than Dean was.

Trying to drown out his thoughts, Dean grabbed his glass and emptied it with one big gulp. The liquid burned down his throat but did nothing to fill the aching hole in Dean's chest.

“There you go”, a voice said from next to Dean, and a tea light in a glass was set on his table. Dean stared at the tiny, flickering light before him, then looked up at the guy who'd set it on the table.

He was skinny, his face lit up by a goofy smile, and there was a Santa hat on his head. He looked ridiculous, but he also looked – Dean wasn't sure. He settled on mostly just ridiculous.

“What's that supposed to be?”

“It's a tea light. It's Christmas, remember? It's just so you don't forget.” He leaned closer conspiratorially. “In our business”, he whispered, “it's easy to forget.”

“I don't like the candle. I'm not here to remember. I'm _here_ to forget.”

The guy shrugged: “Suit yourself – but the candle stays. You're not the only customer here. Others might like it.”

Dean snorted.

The guy, still smiling goofily, moved on to the next table.

Dean leaned forward to snuff out the candle when his phone rang.  
“Yeah”, he answered, running a hand over his face.

“Hi Dean. It's Sam.”

.

Garth returned to the counter and rearranged the Santa hat on his head. It was too large, and kept slipping down towards his nose, but he couldn't very well _not_ wear a Santa hat on Christmas day, could he?

He sat down at the counter and ordered a glass of milk.

Carefully turning around a little while later to check if the other customers liked his contribution to Christmas, he noticed that the guy who'd snapped at him was on the phone. He seemed much more relaxed, even smiled a bit.

Garth grinned and drank his milk – there really was nothing better than spreading a bit of Christmas cheer!

.

The End


	7. Day 07: Name tags, cinema; Dean, Sam, Jo

_**Tags:** Alternative Universe_   
_**A/N:** You know when you come back home all tired and head-achey but know you still have to beta-read your story for today? No? Lucky you. I did my best, and now I’m off to bed._

_._

Dean stuffed another load of popcorn into his mouth. He was annoyed. That wasn’t so much because of the film they were watching – which he picked for Jo because it had just a bit too much kissing and not enough explosions in it. He was annoyed because of Sammy.

Why, oh why, had Sam been so persistent to accompany them? Why had Mom let him go with them?

It wasn’t that he planned this as a date. _If_ he ever thought about taking Jo on a date – which obviously he never did – he’d surely not do something as lame as watching a movie. Or eating ice cream… only a douche would do that. He’d go do something awesome with her. With any girl he’d go on a date with, naturally.

Even though this wasn’t a date, there really was no reason for Sam to constantly talk to Jo. He had her full attention, while she only ever turned to Dean to grab another handful of popcorn. They talked in hushed voices that didn’t become audible no matter how much Dean strained his ears.

That was why Dean was annoyed.

.

The movie was over and the lights came back on. The popcorn bag was empty, and Dean’s mood hadn’t improved much because _they were still talking with each other_. Neither of the other two paid him any attention.

Dean’s patience snapped. He got up, grabbed his backpack and turned to leave.

“Dean?”, Sam called after him, but Dean just ignored him and headed for the exit. No way he was gonna stop to hear his ten year old brother explain why he’d spent the entirety of the movie talking to his – talking to Jo.

Breathing heavily with anger and something that felt surprisingly much like jealousy, Dean reached the exit.

“Wait for me!”

Dean groaned and stopped. It was Jo calling after him this time, and he couldn’t keep his feet from stopping. He even turned around to face her.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, she asked, an angry line forming on her forehead, making her look very much like her mother when she was angry with them.

“Nowhere”, he grumbled, then, more honestly, “I’m going home.”

“Why?”

“Oh, no idea… Maybe because you don’t want me here? I’m sure Sam could take you for some ice cream. Or ice skating, or whatever it is you kids do nowadays.”

It was important for him to use the word ‘kids’.

“What?”, she asked, taken back by his anger.

Dean didn’t care very much if she was hurt and turned back to leave.

Jo was faster. She jogged around him and stopped him by grabbing his arm: “I don’t understand what you’re getting so worked up over! We were just talking!”

“The whole movie long?”

Jo sighed: “Look, Dean, I’m not really into romance movies. I like it when things go up in flames and people shoot at each other. I understand that we went into this movie because of Sam’s age, but not even he liked it. So we started to talk… We talked about Christmas presents and name tags and family traditions, dammit! There was nothing to it!”

Dean snorted: “It’s not like I’m jealous or anything.”

“And why would you be”, Jo hissed between clenched teeth, “since Sammy is just a kid.”

Dean shrugged.

They looked at each other, standing close together with Jo’s hand still on Dean’s arm. Dean swallowed, then worked up his courage: “ince Sam’s just a kid and I’m… I don’t know, older I guess… would you like to… God, I don’t know, go eat some ice cream with me?”

When Jo’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, Dean realized that eating ice cream might be quite alright for a first date as long as it was eating ice cream with Jo.

.

The End


	8. Day 08: Carols, bunker hallway, Adam, Jo and Dean

_**A/N:** I admit it. I added Dean to the mix because I'm not feeling well and this was the easiest way to get this done tonight._

.

It wasn't that Dean didn't like singing. He loved it with every fibre of his being. He loved singing along to songs; loved singing in the shower. Dean knew he didn't have the best voice – he simply didn't care.

What he did care about was a good nights sleep when he got the chance.

Groaning, Dean buried his head deeper in the pillow to block out the noise... Not a chance. He could still hear the poor interpretations of Christmas carols coming from the hallway. Jo's singing might've been bearable...

But Adam's was horrible.

Apparently that was a family thing.

.

The End


	9. Day 09: Mistletoe, Sam's room; Death & Crowley

_**Season:** Season 12. Major spoilers for 12x23 and 13x05_

**_A/N: I suddenly felt that this was needed to be done. Not really Christmas themed._ **   
_Also, oh my God. I'm so, so proud of this chapter. Please let me know what you think!!_

.

_“Come on, Crowley, you know whatever you try you're gonna loose.”_

_“You're right...”_

_Crowley watched in satisfaction as the smug smile really did fade from Lucifer's face. There's was nothing left to do now – though he figured a final goodbye was to be called for._

_He turned around to have a last look at them out of the corner of his eye. The disbelief in Moose's eye, and the lack of comprehension in Dean's made his stomach do a weird, unexpected flip._

_“Bye boys.”_

_No point in hesitating any longer, he decided, and made his move._

.

Crowley had expected a lot of things. Most of all he'd thought this would just be the end. Like all demons he had killed and watched being killed, he'd be gone in a split second.

There had been searing pain, for a moment, but then it faded away.

Crowley ran his hands down his suit and coat – wrinkled and dirty, but it still felt the same. There was a tear in his shirt right where he expected it, and no blood, which was normal enough to brush off. But all felt solid and convincingly real, and that certainly wasn't what Crowley had expected.

A probing shake revealed that the angel blade he had used moments ago to off himself was missing.

He must have let go of it when he fell.

Looking up, Crowley found himself in familiar surroundings. He stood in the Bunker library where he'd last sat with the Winchesters, offering to seal the Gates of Hell.

“Hello?”, he called out, but there was no answer. _Of course_ there wasn't. He gingerly set one foot in front of the other and began searching through the Bunker.

Crowley was mildly annoyed that he didn't appear to be dead. He had planned his end to be a final act of revenge, not some failed action that led to him reappearing in the Bunker. Besides, for some reason he couldn't leave the place, even though he tried.

Then there came a cough from farther down the hallway.

.

Pushing the door to the room open, Crowley stepped inside. It looked so meticulously orderly it was probably Sam's room. There weren't any weapons displayed on the wall at least, so no way it was Dean's.

A woman was going through the contents of the wardrobe. A box sat in front of her that seemed to contain Christmas ornaments.

Crowley remembered her well.

“Nice scythe”, he said, “have you been promoted?”

Death raised an eyebrow: “Of all the things you could have said, Crowley...”

Crowley, who now knew that he must indeed be dead, merely shrugged: “I guess since this is my death, I can say whatever I want. Who's there to judge me? Besides, you're the one holding shrivelled up mistletoe in your hand.”

Billie let go of the mistletoe and grinned: “At least you're not begging for your life back.”

“Hell no”, Crowley said, and he meant it.

“Good”, she said and stepped closer, “because if you refuse to go, the spell you cooked up with Sam Winchester is not going to work. They will die. Since that is in none of my books, I'm glad you didn't put up a fight.”

Crowley snorted: “But, if you allow me this question, why have you brought me here instead of just reaping what is left of my soul?”

Now it was Death's turn to shrug, which, as Crowley noted, made her look weird because of the scythe she was holding. It turned out to be a really lopsided shrug.

“Even I'm bound to honour some codes – like offering someone who sacrificed himself an out. They usually don't take me up on the offer, but I'm indentured to ask.”

“And here I was thinking I was special. Please”, Crowley said, “that wasn't a _sacrifice_. That was _revenge_.”

Billie grinned smugly: “Of course it was.”

Crowley's snarky remark died on his lips and he closed his mouth without replying anything.

“So”, he asked, “what are _you_ still waiting for?”

Billie made another step forward so they stood within arm's reach of each other: “The question is: What are you waiting for?”

Crowley had to admit that he was hesitating. He hadn't been afraid when push came to shove, because he'd figured it would be over in a second. Now that it wasn't, some stupid, weak part of himself fought to hang on to what was left of him – fighting to find a reason to stay.

But Billie had already said that if he stayed, the spell to heal the rip wouldn't work. Sam and Dean would die, and Lucifer would make it back to Earth to regain his kingship over Hell. All of Crowley's work would be for nothing.

Setting his jaw, Crowley asked: “Can you promise me that if I go, that's it? No more Hell, no more demons, no more of anything?”

Billie, for some reason, looked sympathetic when she answered: “I can't promise anything. That would be telling.”

Crowley hesitated.

“If it helps you, I can offer a deal – that's familiar territory for you, isn't it?”

“Such as?”

“If you decide to go and really mean it – and believe me, I'll know – I'm going to tell you what comes after. But, as you said, there's no getting out of it then.”

Crowley, already honour bound to move on to keep the damned Winchesters alive and Lucifer away from things, decided he was ready for one last agreement.

“I'm a crosscroads demon – I always keep my deals”, he answered and raised his head in defiance. He took a deep breath.

“I'm ready to go”, Crowley said.

Death closed what little space was left between them and leaned forward to kiss him. They sealed the deal.

When they broke apart, Billie whispered into his ear: _“After this... comes nothing.”_

Crowley kept his eyes closed and went.

.

The End


End file.
